Peppone was flabbergasted to receive her visit at such a late hour. He wondered what could be the ulterior motive of this girl who had made a fool of one of his most stalwart followers.
“Can you keep a secret until tomorrow morning?” Gilda asked him.
“If it’s an honest secret, I can.”
Gilda took out of her pocket-book a card with the party emblem of shield and cross, tore it into pieces, and threw it on to the table.
“Give me one of your cards, now,” she said, “and keep quiet about it until tomorrow morning. I want to surprise Gioli and also those wretched people who’ve been trying to get me away from him.”
Peppone remained for several minutes with his mouth hanging open, and then objected:
“But you’ve come here out of sheer spite. It’s not true faith that makes you want to join our party.”
“What does that matter? Since when have you Communists been such sentimental souls that you wouldn’t delight in thumbing your noses at the parish priest?”
Peppone had been eating his heart out over the rival May-Day celebration, and these last words roused a definite reaction.
“I’ll make you a member thirty times over, if it will make the priest suffer!”
With card in hand, Gilda went away. And when Peppone had time to think it over, he concluded that Comrade Gioli had scored a personal and party triumph.
“Love is on the Communist side,” he observed sententiously.
The next dawn was that of the First of May and the main square was filled with red, the church square with white carnations. Peppone was overcome by excitement.
While on the one hand he hoped to avoid Don Camillo, on the other he would have given almost anything to run into him. Finally they did meet, near the row of low stone columns which separated the two squares.
“Hurrah for Christ the Worker!” exclaimed Peppone, smiling broadly.
“Exactly! He may not have belonged to the union, but He worked as a carpenter, at the side of His father, Joseph.”
“I seem to remember hearing that God was his Father,” Peppone retorted.
“Just so, Mr Mayor. His Father is the greatest Worker of all. He created the universe before there was any such thing as raw materials!”
Peppone swallowed hard and then said between clenched teeth:
“And all the rest of you clerics that are taking part in this labour celebration, just what work do you do?”
“I pray for your sin-stained soul,” said Don Camillo, “and that’s hard work, I can tell you!”
Peppone looked around, and seeing that everything was in good order, he came out with his sensational news:
“There’s another soul you can pray for,” he said, pointing to a certain segment of the Red throng.
Don Camillo’s eyes popped with astonishment. There in a red dress, with a red carnation in her hair, standing close to the red flag, stood Gilda Marossi. What could he say? But before Peppone could enjoy his triumph to the full, a horrible sight met his eye. In the church square, with a white carnation in his buttonhole, practically wrapped in the folds of the Christian-Democrat banner, stood ex-Comrade Angiolino Grisotti. After a moment, Gilda and Gioli caught sight of each other, too, for both of them had been scanning the rival assembly. After standing thunderstruck with amazement they moved instinctively towards the columns dividing the two squares, by which Don Camillo and Peppone still lingered. They exchanged curious glances and then Gilda said:
“I wanted to surprise you!”
“Same here!” said Gioli.
Some of the bystanders burst into laughter. Gilda and Gioli looked into each other’s eyes and reached a speechless understanding. As if by preconceived accord they stripped themselves of their carnations, and laid them on one of the low stone columns; then arm in arm they walked away from the centre of the village and out of political life for ever and ever. Don Camillo and Peppone stared raptly at the two carnations.
“Well!…” muttered Peppone, shrugging his shoulders.
“Well!…” echoed Don Camillo, characteristically throwing out his arms.
And these were the most eloquent speeches that either of them made during this May-Day celebration.
DON CAMILLO
It is significant that this page should be headed by the name of Don Camillo, and not of Giovanni Guareschi, his creator. For the honest and hot-tempered priest of the Po Valley is today better known and more alive in the minds of readers than his author. It is difficult to pay a higher compliment to a writer.
Four of the Don Camillo books are available in Penguins, and the other three titles are:
THE LITTLE WORLD OF DON CAMILLO
“He has succeeded in finding wit, delight and, I repeat, sentiment where other writers have been able to see only unrelieved agony and horror… A moral and a reverent book”
—Marghanita Laski in the Observer (1797)
DON CAMILLO AND THE PRODIGAL SON
“More enchantment for those who already know Don Camillo—and something wonderful for any who don’t”
—Star (1798)
DON CAMILLO’S DILEMMA
“Now there are two hundred of these tales and the clamour for them is greater than ever. Signor Guareschi pleads: ‘I did my best not to write them.’ How glad we are that he failed”
—Edith Shackleton in the Lady (1799)
Not for sale in the U.S.A. or Canada
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Scanned and Proofed by Amigo da Onça
Don Camillo and the Devil Page 16
